The number one reason I typically cannot shop for myself is that I lack the funds to do so. As in, I literally do not have one single dollar to spare right now.
However, having put some of our expenses onto an Old Navy VISA card that I don’t remember signing up for but that came in the mail one day right around the time I was putting down yet another retainer with my divorce lawyer, I had $105 to spend. Thanks, divorce!!!
I saw an ad that said that they were having a big sale on Saturday. And, as I finally got a job that starts on Monday, Dec. 1st, I thought perhaps I would go and find something presentable that has no stains or bleach marks or tiny holes right over my left breast. You know, just to keep up the charade for a couple days. I also got a spiffy new haircut that I bartered for with a friend and I am planning to pluck my eyebrows.
Pretty sure I might do it probably.
I drove to the closest Old Navy and was instantly overwhelmed – by the crowd, by the brightness, by the layout of the store, by the mean age of the employees. I couldn’t quite tell where the women’s section began or ended. I couldn’t quite understand the presence of all those life-sized, shiny, resin people and their similarly gleaming dog.
I looked around for a moment, blinking and bewildered, until I was drawn, as I always am, to the section under the lighted sign that was blinking “Old Navy Kids.” Like a moth to the flame, yáll.
Bunny outgrew her snow-appropriate coat this year. She has a very warm, very fancy coat that is clearly meant for the little girl who attends cocktail parties on the regular. It was a hand-me-down from a very rich friend of a friend. But nothing to tumble in the snow in. And the polar vortex freaks me out, you guys. I’m from Florida. One of these days, we’re gonna walk outside to go to school and we’ll all just fall over dead. I’m pretty sure. I suddenly felt certain that new coats could save B and P for at least an extra few weeks.
So I found a couple awesome coats that are squishy and fleecy on the inside and waterproof on the outside. Major score. Also expensive. Even with the 50% discount, $70 of $105 gone.
There was a pair on the softest gloves ever for Pip who keeps losing gloves. Maybe he’ll hold on to them if they are softer (haha…snort…just kidding) and a couple of stocking stuffers, and, had they had Christmas jammies, I would have bought two and ended my trip. Unfortunately, they had no holiday jammies. Or, at least, according to the saleschild, they had no holiday jammies. (Of course, I’m not sure it’s legal for him to be working and it was probably near his bedtime so he maybe was vewy tired).
Anyway, I ventured back to the women’s clothing sections and realized that I have no idea what looks good. No idea what is in style. No idea exactly what size I am.
I am shopping-impaired.
I went to the clearance section because cheaper is always in style as far as I know. I chose a dress that is too big but it was really cheap and didn’t cling to any of the stolen Halloween candy that has adhered to my mid-section. I bought another dress because it was a different color than anything else I owned. THAT was my advanced reasoning regarding that purchase. “I know I don’t have anything like this already because it is navy blue and I never have anything that is navy blue.” THAT is how I shopped for myself.
It was pathetic.
The entire time I was out of the kids’ section, I was self-conscious. Am I looking at stuff that is ugly and I don’t know it’s ugly? Am I looking at stuff that is for people much younger than I am? Are people scoffing because I am looking at the 8’s and they can see my butt and they think I’m being naïve?
You understand, I have no tights or leggings to wear with the dresses I bought. They are just going to hang in my closet indefinitely and I am going to go to my new job and strategically fold the sleeves of the shirts with the bleach marks and put a scarf over the sweater with the boob-hole.
But Bunny and Pip will be toasty warm this winter…for FREE (if you don’t count the thousands of dollars of credit card debt that made those gift certificates possible).
And, the next time I have racked up some Old Navy points, which is probably any day now, I am sending the gift certificates to a fashionable friend with the directive to get me something fashionable-ish from the women’s section in a size 8….er….maybe 10 (pending a New Year’s resolution to do something about that) and to grab a pair of incredibly soft gloves for herself. Consider yourselves warned, fashionable friends. You know who you are.
Actually, you are pretty much everyone except me.
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